Hiding in Plain Sight
by starrrz
Summary: Vlad needs to disappear for a while. Somebody comes to the rescue.
1. Chapter 1

_To fill a challenge laid down by redrachxo... First chapter of five?_

* * *

There comes a time in the reign of every Grand High Vampire when it becomes pertinent to just disappear for a while. There was no real shame, Bertrand assured him, that that time had come sooner than it had for most of his predecessors.

Vlad thought long and hard about where he ought to disappear to. Erin had always wanted him to take her to Paris, before she decided that being with a guy without a pulse was really just something of a drag. Ingrid suggested that he ought to go hook up with Adrianus and his goat in deepest Trans-Siberia but, really, that was always going to be a non-starter.

His dad didn't want to go anywhere that might prevent from keeping a (totally non-stalkerish) eye on Miss McCauley, and Bertrand chose the crucial moment to come down with a crippling case of blood poisoning.

It was all looking pretty hopeless when he hauled himself out of his coffin one evening to the sound of thudding and raised voices. If his blood were able to run cold, it would have, and Vlad cursed himself for not hurrying things along, and for putting the entire family in danger. Bertrand, he thought though his mind could undoubtedly be better occupied, was bound to be disappointed in him.

The scene he found playing out in the sitting room however wasn't quite what he had been expecting. His father had his head in his hands, though it wasn't despair but the beginnings of a stress headache that had him rubbing circles against his temples. Ingrid's face was set in its habitual scowl, and Ryan was sat obediently at her feet, but his eyes were wide and wondering, staring at something just out of Vlad's line of vision.

Bertrand had a restraining hand on Wolfie's shoulder, though he still looked grey rather than pale, and there were deep circles around his eyes so that Vlad could do nothing but stride purposefully into the room, determined to show his mentor how adeptly he could take control of the situation.

"Vlăduţ!" came the terrible cry the moment he stepped over the threshold. "Come and say hello to your Great Uncle Armand!"

* * *

Great Uncle Armand had once been the most powerful vampire in the Western Hemisphere. The hand pulling the strings behind the Crown, the vampire every family wanted to invite to the sacrifice of the blood of their firstborns. Then there was a nasty to-do over a half fang in Bohemia, and a fall from grace that involved a stake and a consignment of dates, at least that was the way the family stories went, and the vampire vowed to turn his back on politics and within the year was making a living from the zombie trade in Haiti.

This all ran through the back of Vlad's mind as Armand crushed him into an unwanted hug, all bushy beard and eyebrows, and velor leisure toga, topped off with luminous nylon sports cape.

Armand wiped a tear from his eye when he finally pulled away, and held a hand out for it to be duly presented with a handkerchief by his faithful - if ancient - manservant. "They grow up so quickly, Rollo."

"That's a matter of opinion," he heard his sister murmur, and Rollo, who Vlad remembered from Great Uncle Armand's last unannounced visit, made some strange sort of clicking noises until Armand straightened up and nodded,

"Of course, you're quite right, Rollo."

Vlad looked around the world for help. His dad was grinding his fangs in irritation, muttering dark threats of torture, while Ingrid was now wearing her scheming expression, doubtless thinking of the inheritance.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" Wolfie asked, bluntly. "Are you friends with Renfield?"

Great Uncle Armand tipped his head back and laughed, too loud and too long, then snapped his fingers at Rollo who scurried from the room obediently and fixed Vlad with an uncomfortably intense stare.

"I'm here to offer my services."

* * *

"I don't like it," Bertrand told him as he set about packing some essentials into his old school backpack.

The blood poisoning had left the man with a tempting air of vulnerability about him, and it was all Vlad could to concentrate on not confusing his shampoo with the soya blood, what with Bertrand leaning against the wall for support and looking like something out of the kind of magazines Garside was always attempting to crack down on.

"We don't have a lot of choice," Vlad said as steadily as he was able. "They're all baying for my blood." He frowned. "You know what I mean."

Bertrand's expression was placid, but his eyes flashed, and Vlad tried not to think about the fact his coffin was right in front of them both.

"And," Vlad went on, "Uncle Armand's right. It's the last place anyone would think to look for us."

Bertrand looked unconvinced, but Vlad resolved to see the plan through. He wasn't as flaky as the Sunblock liked to make out. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it.


	2. Chapter 2

"If I am forced to spend another second with that old fool I swear I will stake him and be done with it!" The sky above Garside Grange crackled with lightening as the Count stomped his foot, not unreminiscent of an overtired four year old.

Great Uncle Armand, busy loading his modified hearse - complete with go faster stripes streaking the sides - patted the Count's arm as he passed,

"Always the joker, good to see you haven't let things get you down."

The Count lunged and if it weren't for the speed of his vampire responses, Vlad thought once they were finally on the road, Great Uncle Armand would have been reduced to nothing but a stinking pile of ash in the middle of the school playground.

As it was, the Count had willingly offered to travel behind with Renfield and Ingrid, something which only served to unsettle Vlad. Armand was irritating, certainly, but he had yet to demonstrate the same talent Ingrid had at getting under the skin.

An hour later, as the urban landscape gave way to lashing rain and green fields, Vlad was forced to reassess the situation.

"I advised on all the classics," Great Uncle Armand was saying, taking his eyes off the road in front of them far more than Vlad felt was strictly necessary. "Revenge of the Zombies, Revolt of the Zombies, Murderous Intent of the Zombies. Yes, they all came to me to talk about realism."

At this point Wolfie shoved another handful of blood sherbets into his mouth, and Rollo clucked his tongue against the side of his wizened cheek.

"Quite right, Rollo," Great Uncle Armand nodded, the hearse swerving across lanes with the motion. Vlad swore he saw Bertrand turn near transparent, even as his own fingers dug into the seat covers. Armand continued on unperturbed, "I made a rod for my own back. Nobody wanted a zombie workforce after Lugosi's performance. Too afraid of uprisings. So I did what any vampire would do; went into the holiday home business. It's about time Rollo and I did a proper stock take of our UK assets."

Rollo made a gargling type of noise, and Armand beamed, "Oh, yes, everyone who's anyone has stayed in one of my luxury holiday lets."

Vlad finally perked up at this, and offered a waxy looking Bertrand a smile, dreaming of central heating and modern shower fixtures.

Perhaps the next seven days wouldn't be quite so awful after all.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," Ingrid said when they reached their destination. For once Vlad agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

"Still in excellent condition," Great Uncle Armand told Rollo, as if he couldn't see the rust and the grime and the broken window. Perhaps he couldn't. Vlad thanked any and all deities once again that the journey was over.

"I am not," the Count began, pacing with agitation so Renfield had to scurry with the umbrella to keep him sheltered from the weak dawn sunlight, "spending a week in a caravan!"

"At least," Vlad tried, wary of losing another family member, "things can't get any worse."

A car pulled up at the neighbouring - and far superior - caravan, doors thunking in the early morning quiet. "Mr Count!" a voice exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here."

Vlad just took a moment to shut his eyes and pretend that none of it was happening.


End file.
